The Messenger
by Book 'em Again
Summary: What would you do to ensure that the message you carried stayed out of enemy hands? After a cowardly attack on the road, Emil finds himself in Stalag Thirteen. There he must decide who he can trust and what lengths he will go to protect the country that he loves. Written for the SSSW challenge.


Emil was out of bed and on his feet before his brain fully registered that the alarms were blaring. He was already in uniform so he quickly shoved his feet into his boots, did up the laces and ran for the door. Others were running beside him as they all knew that if they didn't get to their posts in time, their families would pay the price for their failure. Because the sirens could only mean one thing: enemy bombers were headed toward Dusseldorf - their home.

While Emil ran images of his mother and his sisters can to his mind and he swore again that he would keep them safe. He had promised his father that he would protect them before he had left for the front. He would be strong. He would do his part. He would protect his country, his family, his home.

Emil reached the searchlight and climbed into his seat. Behind him, Curt and Thilo, the other members of the searchlight team, reached the generator and turned it on. Turning the cranks, Emil began slowly scanning the sky. Nerves were pushed to the side, as his training kicked in and searched for the planes that he knew were coming.

The hum of the generator was loud but he knew the planes were close when he could hear the all too familiar sound of bombs being dropped in distance. Determined to find that plane before it dropped its next payload, Emil signaled the generator crew for more power. The beam of his search light shined brighter as he caught just a flash and metal before focused in on the enemy.

The guns began to fire as Emil kept his light on the target. Soon loud shouts filled the air as the bomber exploded in a ball of fire. Unfortunately, there was no time for further celebrations as more enemies filled the air. After a short search, he managed to illuminate a second bomber, the plane veered away as guns fired.

The minutes flew by as the sounds of the generators, the guns, the planes and the bombs filled the air. Eventually, things slowly grew quicker as the bombers moved on, the guns grew silent, and finally the signal was given to turn off the generators.

Silence.

Emil climbed down from his perched and thanked the rest of the crew before walking towards the gunners. As he approached the area, he saw a large crowd surrounding Klaus Becker and Emil knew immediately that he had been the one who had shoot the bomber down.

Klaus was everything Emil wanted to be: a loyal soldier of the Fatherland, tall, strong, a hero. At twelve years old, Emil knew that he was too small to work the big guns, but he prayed every night that when he was fourteen like Klaus that he would just as big and strong. Was it wrong to hope that the war lasted that long?

* * *

The next morning, Emil walked his bike out to where the rest of his crew was waiting. It was early and he hadn't gotten much sleep, but none of them complained about their duty. For they would cycle into Dusseldorf and inspect any damage and help anyone displaced by the bombings to find a new home. The work was important and while none of the boys would say so aloud, it was gave them the chance to learn if their families had survived the night.

But before they were given orders to depart, a man on motorbike drove onto the grounds and came to a screeching halt. The man looked bad - his uniform was a mess and it looked like he had driven all night. Major Roepke, who commanded their unit, and his aide hurried forward and spoke with the soldier in hushed tones.

"I wonder what they are talking about?" Kurt whispered beside him.

Curious but determined to look like a proper soldier, Emil remained quiet. He could tell what the adults were discussing was important, but he knew that it wasn't his place to pry. So he was shocked when he watched Roepke's aide break away from the group and call his name, "Wolf!"

Leaving his bike with his friend, Emil followed the aide until he was standing in front of his commanding officer. Their visitor had disappeared inside and the Major was looking at him with a critical eye. "Are you familiar with the town of Hammelburg?" Roepke asked.

"Yes, sir." His uncle, well his aunt lived there while his uncle was stationed somewhere in France, and their families had visited a lot before the war.

Major Roepke gestured to their visitor. "This man is carrying an important message for Major Hochstetter at Gestapo Headquarters in Hammelburg. He received warning that traitors to the Third Reich were aware of his mission and are determined to intercept this message. This calls for a change in tactics. I need to you deliver this message to Major Hochstetter. No one else. Can you do this?"

Emil forced himself to remain even as he was tempted to shout for joy. For he realized that the reason he was picked was because, even though he was the same age as many of the other boys, he knew that he looked younger. Normally, that upset him, but today it was going to give him the chance to trick those dirty traitors and be a hero! "I can do it, sir."

"Good lad," Roepke said as he handed him the messenger's bag. "Heil Hitler!"

"Heil Hitler!"

Once his back was to the adults, Emil allowed himself to smile as he walked to his bike, slung the bag over his shoulder and began peddling down the road. However, he didn't let his pride get in the way of his duty as he kept his eyes open as he traveled down the country roads.

A truck parked on the road made Emil nervous and he drifted over to the other side as the road as he moved closer. However, the sight of a downed tree put him at ease. There was a good reason for the car to be stopped even though the anxious driver standing next to the car didn't look like he thought so.

"Good morning, sir," Emil said as he jumped off his bike and prepared to walk it around the trunk end of the tree.

"It's horrible, just horrible," the older man said as he wrung his cap in his hands. "First all that bombing last night put the cows off their milk. But I had to deliver these potatoes so I got in truck to drive them to town. But as you can see the road is blocked.! I tried to turn around, but my tire had gone flat and I don't have a spare. What am I going to do? I promised those potatoes to the Gestapo!"

The farmer was frantic and Emil wanted to help him if he could. _Just don't lend him your bicycle_ , he thought _._ Though he then had hide a chuckle as he imagined this elderly man trying to ride his bike with a sack of potatoes on his back.

"I'm going into town," Emil said. "I'll let the soldiers know the road is out."

"You have saved me, my boy," the farmer said as he stepped forward with his arms outstretched.

Emil backed away from the hug. He wasn't going to let some crazy old man get anywhere near his messenger bag. Besides those side burns were really creepy. "Goodbye."

Pushing his bicycle into the woods, Emil reached and the end of the tree and froze. The tree hadn't fallen - it had been cut! Glancing back at the man, he saw him staring and Emil realized something important: _This is a trap!_

Pushing his bike around the tree as fast as he could, Emil jumped back on his bide, but just as he started to peddle, a body came from out of nowhere and knocked him to ground. Emil rolled over and screamed; the colored man on top of him was the biggest, scariest man he had ever seen!

Kicking, scratching, shouting, Emil fought with all his might, but the man was strong - too strong. But when his attacker put a hand over his mouth, Emil bite down hard. The colored man's grip loosened just enough that Emil was able to bring up his knee and hit the evil man in the one place no man ever wanted to be hit.

As the Negro rolled on the ground in pain, Emil checked to ensure that the message was still in his bag and then bolted into the woods, running as fast as he could. However, he wasn't safe yet as a glance backgrounds told him that the old man was no old man as he started running too.

Sprinting through the woods, Emil run until he could no longer hear or see the enemy behind him. Once he was confident he was alone, he dove into some thick bushes and forced himself to breathe slowly and not move. From his hiding spot, he heard his enemies approach. They were talking - in English! Emil didn't understand the language nor did he understand how these men could have ended up in Germany. He just knew that this was really, really bad. He needed to get to Hammelburg and inform the Gestapo at once!

But he also couldn't risk the message he carried falling into enemy hands.

Once he could no longer hear his attackers, Emil carefully looked around and breathed a sigh of relief as they were nowhere to be found. Thinking fast, he climbed up a nearby tree as far as he could go. He grabbed his messenger bag, checked that all the straps where secure and tied it to the branch. The branches were full of leaves so no one would be able to spot it from the ground.

Climbing back down, Emil fixed the image of the tree in his mind. Hiding the message would do no good if he forgot where he hid it. Then, figuring that his enemies had moved to search deeper in the forest, Emil headed back toward the road. If he could get to his bike, he could find help in Hammelburg, complete his mission and catch a few spies in no time!

It didn't take long for him to find the road and his bike lying next to it. Luckily it was still in working order.

"Stop!"

Emil didn't stop. His enemies had found him! He pushed down on his peddles, but in his panic he headed the wrong direction and immediately crashed into the downed tree. He moaned as he hit the ground, holding his head in his hands.

The colored spy reached him first and grabbed him with his dirty hands so he couldn't move. Emil wanted to fight back, but first he needed the world to stop spinning.

The man who was not an old man, knelt in front of him as he said, "Come on kid, where's the bag?"

Even though his head was pounding, Emil wanted to shout, _I'm not a kid, I'm a soldier!_ But he couldn't. His head hurt - he couldn't focus, he couldn't think! Then, suddenly, he couldn't do anything as the world went black.

* * *

The first thing Emil was aware of when he woke up was that his head still hurt. The second was that he wasn't alone. An American medic was taking his pulse and there was a German sergeant standing guard next to him - at least Emil hoped he was.

The guard smiled, "Hello, my name is Sergeant Carterhoff. You gave us quite a fright. How are feeling?"

Emil closed his eyes and tried to think. Nothing made sense. If he was in good hands, why was there an enemy in the room? And if he had been captured, why was Carterhoff here? He needed more information. "Where I am?"

"Stalag Thirteen. Our guards found you passed out on the road and brought you here. What's your name?"

That actually made sense. He knew of the POW camp even though he never had a reason to visit before. But he still should have been taken to a German hospital. "Emil Wolf." Then looking over at the medic, he asked, "Is it safe?"

Carterhoff nodded. "The prisoner has been warned. He said that he is a medic first and would never harm a patient."

Emil didn't like it, but he didn't protest as the medic poked, prodded and asked several questions about his health. Except for a headache, he felt okay. The dizziness from earlier had passed. After completing his examination, the medic handed him a cup with some pills and a glass of water. He said a few words which the camp guard translated, "Take these, they'll help with your headache."

Even though Emil still didn't trust the medic, the pounding in his head won. He needed to be healthy to complete his mission. He needed to get to Hammelburg as fast as possible. So as soon the POW walked to the other side of the room, he said, "Sergeant Carterhoff, could you drive me into town. I need to meet with the Gestapo right away."

Emil tried to leave his bed, only to be gently pushed back down. "You need to stay in bed," Carterhoff ordered. "We don't want to undo all the medic's good work."

Frustrated, Emil batted the soldier's hands away. "I was carrying a message when I was attacked. I managed to hide it, but I have to deliver it to Major Hochstetter today!"

Carterhoff looked concerned as he sat down on the edge of bed. "That does sound important. If you tell me where the message was hidden, I will personally ensure that it is delivered."

Emil shook his head. "No. My orders are to deliver to Major Hochstetter and no one else." Carterhoff seemed like a nice guy, but he had already been tricked once and he wasn't going to take any more chances.

"I understand. I will talk to the Kommandant and he will inform the Gestapo. But you must stay in bed, Emil."

"Yes, Sergeant."

"Good, lad," the guard said as he reached over and patted him on the shoulder.

Emil silently fumed as the guard left the room. He hated being treated like some kid. He was wearing a uniform. He served his country just as well as any soldier. It wasn't his fault that he was only twelve. It just wasn't fair.

He laid back in his bed and debated his next move. He could wait for Hochstetter to come. He had meet the Gestapo officer before and he was confident he would come when he received word - if he received word. He couldn't forget that he was currently laying in a bed in a dirt hut with an American POW as he only guard.

All he had was Carterhoff's word that he was safe. What sort of soldier was he if didn't investigate?

Emil lowered himself out of bed and as soon as his feet touched the ground, the medic came running, yelling commands that he didn't need to understand to follow. However, Emil ignored him; he didn't take orders from the enemy. Walking past the medic, he opened the door and winced at the bright sun. But once his eyes adjusted, he was relieved to see that he was indeed inside of a prisoner of war camp.

Stepping outside, Emil studied his surroundings. There were so many people! He didn't know that Germany housed so many enemies! It seemed like a waste to keep them all alive.

Stepping forward, he stopped when a short prisoner stepped in front of him. "Pardon me," the POW said in heavily accented German. Emil ignored him and stepped to the side. He wasn't going to speak the enemy - especially not some Frenchman!

However, the French POW was persistent and moved so to keep blocking his path. "Are you Klink's nephew? He will be so glad to hear you've come to the concert."

Emil looked around for a guard but there was none in sight. He would have to deal with the annoying prisoner himself. "Get out of my way!"

"Sorry," the man say bowing and scraping and taking so long to move that by the time he was finally down apologizing, Sergeant Carterhoff had returned.

Angry, Emil marched right up to the guard and said, "Do you allow prisoners to bother Germans in this camp?"

Carterhoff looked at him and said, "You should be in bed." Then looking over at the prisoner, he added, "And you should be at the concert."

"What concert?" Emil asked as the POW finally scurried away.

As Carterhoff lead his charge back to his bed, he explained, "Entertainment for the prisoners. The Red Cross requires it. Our Kommandant will be performing several solos on the violin."

Ugh, that sounded boring. He was glad he didn't have to go. "Did you contact Major Hochstetter?"

"Yes, he is driving directly here. The message you were carrying must have been important."

Emil didn't respond. He couldn't explain it, but there was something weird about this camp. Carterhoff, however, took his silence as permission to speak and he began telling a story about learning to play the trumpet at gymnasium.

As the time passed, Emil heard the faint echoes of a violin playing on the other side of the compound; the concert must have started.

It was only a couple minutes after the music began that another guard opened the door and announced, "Major Hochstetter of the Gestapo."

Emil studied the Gestapo officer as he walked into the room: Hochstetter was taller than he remembered, but the mustache was right and when the man opened his mouth, there was no doubt that it was him. "Where is the boy?"

Emil stood up. "Here, sir."

"So you are the traitor who lost my message," Hochstetter growled.

Emil voice rose with panic. "I didn't lose it, sir! I was attacked by two spies. They both spoke English and one was colored. I fought back as best as I could."

"It's true, Herr Major," Carterhoff said, placing a reassuring hand on Emil's shoulder. "We found him passed out of the side of the road."

"Have you identified the traitors yet?"

"No, Herr Major. We saw no sign of them."

"Bah! Worthless all of you." Looking down at Emil, the Gestapo officer ordered, "Give me the message."

"I..I..I-" Emil swallowed; he wasn't afraid. He could do this. He could admit his failure. "I don't have it, Herr Major. But I hid it and I can find it! You just need to drive me there, sir"

Hochstetter stared at him and it was all Emil could do to look calmly back. He had nothing to hide; he was telling the truth! Finally, the officer decided that as well and looked up at the camp guard. "Bring me my car."

Carterhoff clicked his heels together. "Yes, Herr Major."

But before the guard could leave, the infirmary door and a very large guard walked into the room. He looked shocked as he exclaimed, _"Colonel Hogan, there you are! When the Kommandant finds out you left his concert ..."_

"WHAT IS THIS MAN DOING HERE!"

Emil jumped when Hochstetter screamed. He had no idea what the new guard said, for he was speaking in English. He thought that the guard was asking about some person named Hogan, but even if he wrong it was clear that Gestapo officer was not amused.

"My apologies, Major Hochstetter," the guard said, switching back to German. "I didn't know you were here..."

"Bah! You are interrupting an important interrogation."

The guard looked like he wouldn't to run from the room as fast as possible, but when he looked at Emil, he found the courage to speak, "But, Herr Major, he's just a boy."

"A boy! He's a boy who with information vital to the security of the Third Reich!" Slapping his gloves in hands, Hochstetter paused and then said, "Though if you must stay - stay. But once you hear this information, I will be forced to transfer you to the Russian front."

The large guard's grew wide and his whole body shook as he quickly backed out of the room. "I see nothing! I hear nothing. I know nothing!"

"Bah! The guards at this camp are worthless. Sergeant, why haven't gotten my car?"

While Carterhoff scurried off, Hochstetter turned his attention back to Emil. "Wolf, you will lead me to where you hide the message, is that clear?

Emil saluted. "Yes, sir."

* * *

It didn't take long for Emil to find the spot where he had been attacked. The downed tree was gone, but his bike was still there, laying in a wreck on the side of the road. Leading the friendly Carterhoff and irritable Hochstetter to what he hoped was the correct spot, Emil checked his surroundings to be sure. For it was it was clear that Hochstetter's patience was swiftly running out.

Emil pointed. "It's up there. I'll go get it." Then without hesitation he began the long climb up to the top of the tree. He breathed a sigh of relief when found the bag right where he left it. It didn't take him long to untangle the knots, but when he started to climb down, he felt a tug as one of the straps got caught on a branch.

He pulled hard and the bag came free, but, the top came loose and he watched in horror as the canister started to fall. Reaching out a hand, he managed to save the precious message, but he top of the metal case had come off and he could make out a few words - one of which immediately caught his eye: Hogan.

He knew he shouldn't, but with the message right there, Emil couldn't resist. Hogan had been the name mentioned by the large guard at the camp - the one who had looked like he had no idea what was going on.

After checking to ensure those below couldn't see, Emil pulled out the message and saw that it was list of Underground operatives in the area. Right at the top of the list were the words: _Papa Bear: Colonel Robert E. Hogan, Stalag Thirteen._

Hogan...

The large guard had said the name Hogan.

The message said Hogan was at Stalag Thirteen.

He had noticed that Hochstetter was taller than he remembered.

Hogan was Papa Bear.

Could Hochstetter be Hogan?

 _No! It couldn't be_. But Emil had been tricked before. Had he just been tricked again?

"Are you okay up there?" Carterhoff shouted.

"Yes," Emil lied. Then shoving the message back in the canister and the canister back into the bag, he added, "I'm coming down now."

He had the all too short climb down to consider his options and Emil didn't like any of them. The only thing he could think of was to pretend that everything was okay. If he could make it back to his crew, he could tell Major Roepke everything and he would have to trust that CO would know what was real and what was lies.

Reaching the ground, Emil turned, came to attention and presented the message to the man he hoped was Major Hochstetter. The officer grabbed the canister and quickly read the contents. "Very, good." Then suddenly the man stood straighter and gained an authority Emil hadn't noticed before as he said, "Gentlemen."

The two men who had attacked him on the road appeared out of nowhere, dressed all in black and grabbed him once again. Emil tried to struggle but a smelly cloth was placed over his nose and mouth. Fearing the worst, he tried not to breathe it in, but it was too late and once again his world went black.

* * *

This time when Emil woke up, he was tied to a chair. His enemies were all there. The "old man", the colored devil, the French POW, the "friendly" one and the one he knew now was Papa Bear.

He thought about shouting, but he don't think it would do any good. He felt like crying, but he didn't want to show weakness in front of the enemy. He wouldn't beg. These men were evil, he had no doubt they would kill him to keep their secrets - but why was he still alive? Would he be tortured?

Hogan stepped closer - looking at him now, Emil couldn't believe that he'd let himself be tricked by this man. But if Hogan could make him betray his country what else would he make him do? His fear must have shown on his face, because the first words his captor spoke were gentle, "Don't worry, kid. You may not believe it now, but we're the good guys and we don't torture children."

Furious at being called a child and at the man's lies, he shouted, "You're evil! You're Papa Bear and you blow up bridges and factories and trains. You've murdered lots of people. If you were good, you would go home and leave Germany alone!"

"You're right. I've done many of those things. But I didn't start this war, Hitler did. And I can't step back and do nothing when while that madman orders children to fight in his wars.

Emil gasped. How dare speak about the Führer like that! "I'm a soldier and the Führer is the best leader in the world. You're evil to fight him."

Hogan sighed. "Look, kid, I know I'm not going to change your mind. Their hooks are in you too deep. But I'm not lying. I'm just a messenger. But you should be you should be riding bikes with your friends, not delivering messages for the army. You should be playing with toys, not shooting down planes."

Emil didn't like what Papa Bear was saying. He needed to change the subject. "What's going to happen to me?"

"You're a child. I wish I could send you home to mother, but I'm forced to send to you to England where at least you'll be safe."

The American looked so sad at his words which just made Emil angry. He hated the pity in his enemy's eyes. He didn't need the man's pity. Especially not the pity that of an evil man who had insulted the Führer! Emil spat and gained some satisfaction in seeing it land on Hogan's cheek. But his enemy didn't react. Instead he just gestured at one of his men who came forward and tied a gag around his mouth.

Emil tried to struggle, but the rope stayed tight. He was trapped - these men would never let him escape and now they were sending him to England where he would never see his family again.

Tears filled his eyes as the bad men filed out of the small room he where he being held. He tried not to look at the sole guard who remained as he began to sob. But once the tears came, he couldn't stop. For he had failed.

He had failed his mission.

He had failed his family.

He had failed his country.

And most importantly, he had failed his hero, his leader, his Führer.

Author's Notes:

While Emil is fictional, his position in the German military and his duties are all based on historical fact. Boys were commonly used as messengers and, by January 1943, all German anti-aircraft batteries were "manned solely by Hitler Youth boys."

Source: "Hitler's Boy Soldiers" The History Place (website)


End file.
